


His boy

by VivianP



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Developing Relationship, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt d'Artagnan, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Protectiveness, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-12-16 05:42:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivianP/pseuds/VivianP
Summary: Porthos his father has arranged a marriage for his son, when Porthos meets his finacé he isn't really what he had expected. That doesn't mean Porthos doesn't like him, because Porthos is such a lovable person.





	1. The boy

He hated this, hated the way people looked at him and yet he was unable to say anything about it. His father would punish him and he couldn’t stand that right now, he couldn’t stand being embarrassed in front of all these people who already thought so little of him. The worst part was that Porthos knew his father was doing this to mock him. In his entire life Porhtos had never had a party for anything and now he turned twenty one and was of age his father invited all his friends for a big party. He knew he was going to be introduced to his finance tonight, the youngest son of a low noble man that had no prospects in life. The boy’s father was probably desperate for some money and didn’t mind his son being married of to a man of color whose mother had been a slave. There was no way of getting out from this marriage, his groom to be would live with them until the wedding. Porthos might as well get used to a life in which his spouse would be repulsed by him.

He was pulled from his thoughts when a hand landed on his shoulder, turning his head he saw it was his father. Without saying anything to his son he pulled him with him to an older looking. The man was dressed in simple clothes and looking around nervously.

“Porthos meet monsieur Alexandre d’Artagnan, your father- in- law to be”, the man in front of him was looking at him from head to toe before tilting his head in acknowledgement.

“Pleasure sir”, was all Porthos could say. The man obviously thought less of him than of a dog and yet he was willing to marry one of his children of to Porthos.

“The wedding will take place in two weeks’ time like we had arranged, right?” the man asked turning to Porthos his father. Even Porthos didn’t know he would be married in two weeks’ time. He saw his father nod his head in agreement.

“Yes, it’s better to get this over and done with as soon as possible”, his father sounded like he was discussing just another business deal instead of the marriage of one of his children.

“Porhthos why don’t you go upstairs, your fiancé is waiting in your room”, Porthos was shocked at his father’s words. He had expected that he would meet his fiancé hear and after that would only see him a couple of hours a day like it normally would be when he would be courting someone. He found himself walking up the stairs without really knowing he was doing so. Walking the long corridor that led to his rooms which were in one of the most abandoned places in the castle. He took a deep steading breath before pushing open the door. One of the maids had made sure there was a fire burning in the fireplace. At first he didn’t notice anyone besides himself in the room, it was only when he had walked in the room and was standing in front of the fireplace himself that he noticed a small figure sitting under one of the windows. Porthos was frozen where he stood, the boy or man or whatever looked so incredibly small, legs pulled close to his chest with his arms wrapped around them. He was looking at Porthos with eyes that looked like they were expecting the worst. Porthos knew what it was to be afraid, growing up in this household had taught him that, but he had never seen anyone else so afraid. Completely at lost as to what to do Porthos knelt on the floor so that he was at the same height as … his fiancé, making sure there was more than enough space between them. The boy sitting opposite him was looking at him wearily, like he was preparing himself to be struck at any moment. He couldn’t even imagine what the boy had gone through that he would react in such a way.

“I’m Porthos, can you tell me your name?” he didn’t have any idea what he was doing, but he hoped that the boy would give some kind of reaction. His hope was in vain because all that happened was that the boy continued to look at him like a skittish animal. He was trembling slightly, but Porthos wasn’t sure if that was because he was cold or because he was afraid. He slowly got up from the floor and walked to the bed which made the boy look even more afraid. Porthos took one of the softest blankets from his bed before walking over to the boy again and sinking to the floor. A bit closer than before so that when he stretched out his arms he could easily drape the blanket over the boy’s frame. The boy didn’t even seem to notice that Porthos had done anything, he just kept staring at him. Porthos got up from the floor again and went to the door almost running downstairs, most of the guest had already left and only a dozen or so remained scattered across various rooms. Porthos couldn’t see Alexandre anywhere, but he could find his father easily enough. He came to a hold beside the man who was talking to one of his friends, he didn’t even acknowledge Porthos who stood right beside him. Not caring if he would be punished or not Porthos spoke to his father completely ignoring the man he was talking to.

“What is it that happened to him?” he was looking his father square in the eye and couldn’t help, but hate the man. He always found ways to humiliate Porthos, no matter how.

“According to Alexandre he is just pretending so that he can get out of this marriage, not that you can blame him if you see what he is about to marry,” the man his father was talking to laughed “now leave. You have a new play thing to warm your bed with”.

Porthos stumbled out of the room and almost let himself fall to the floor when he was sure no one would be able to see him. He didn’t know much, but he knew for sure the boy wasn’t pretending that something was wrong with him. Porthos couldn’t even guess what, but he knew that no matter what he would be married in two weeks’ time. He would have to go back upstairs to his room, to where the boy was sitting on the floor, unmoving with a blanket around him. Had the boy even eaten anything this evening, he hadn’t been at the feast and Porthos doubted that anyone had bothered to give him something to eat. He went down to the kitchens where he filled a plate with some cold meat, fruit and bread before taking it all upstairs. Halfway up the stairs he realized that he didn’t even know the name of the man he was going to marry. When he entered the room the boy was precisely where Porthos had left him. Porthos placed the plate on the table and turned to the boy.

“I thought you might be hungry”, he said gesturing to the plate. There was no reaction whatsoever and Porthos was getting more and more nervous and a bit angry. He wanted to help the boy, he was trying his very best to be polite and as reassuring as he could be. Reminding himself that this wasn’t the boy’s fault, Porthos walked over to the fireplace and added another log to the fire. When he turned he saw that the boy was looking at the plate of food on the table with longing eyes, but as soon as he saw Porthos looking he averted his eyes again. Deciding it was worth a try Porthos took the plate from the table and carefully walked over to the boy placing the plate in front of his small form. After that, he went to sit in one of the chairs in front of the fire so that he could watch the boy, without the boy knowing he was really being watched. It took a couple of minutes in which the boy threw a few careful glances at Porthos, but after that he quickly took the piece of bread. Porthos continued to watch the boy and when he was done he waited a while before he took a glass from the side board and filled it with water from a decanter. He walked over to the boy and placed the glass of water before him after taking up the now empty plate. The boy still didn’t look at him, but at least he took up the glass while Porthos was still standing beside him. He drank it content in one go and Porthos couldn’t help feeling guilty for not giving the boy something to drink sooner.

“Do you want some more?” Porthos didn’t even expect an answer any more. The boy did, however, look up at him with pleading eyes. Porthos got the decanter from the table and walked over to the boy again, who had placed the glass in front of him. When Pothos filled the glass again the boy was looking at him like he had performed some kind of magic trick. When the glass was full again he took it and with a warry glance at Porthos began drinking, he only drank half of it this time and looked at Porthos with a fearfull expression. Porthos couldn’t imagine why he would need to be afraid. He sat with the boy for a while, who was stubbornly looking at the floor in front of him. Porthos was getting tired and longed to go to bed, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the boy. He couldn’t really let him spent the night on the floor here, but at the same time he wasn’t really sure if tacking him to bed with him was a good idea either.  He got up from the floor and went behind the screen that stood in the corner of his room, he had never really bothered with using it before, but he felt that this might be the best way to go with the terrified boy who was sitting in his room. When he had changed his clothes the boy was still sitting on the floor. Pothos slowly walked to the boy and knelt in front of him, gently reaching out to. His heart broke a little when the boy filched when Porthos touched him, this time he was at least pretty sure it had nothing to do with his skin color like.

“Can you stand?” Porthos asked him in his softest voice, but he didn’t get a reply. He slowly placed one of his arms under the boy’s knees and the other around his shoulders. “I’m going to carry you to bed so that you can get some sleep, okay?” the only response he got was a small moan as that of a frightened animal. Crossing the room he walked to the bed and gently placed the boy on the bed. When the boy made no move to undress himself Porthos began to pull of the boy his boots before staring on the laces of his doublet. He pulled back the blankets from the bed and tucked the boy in, before taking one of the blankets from the bed and walking over to the chair that was closest to the fire. From where he was sitting now he could keep watch over the boy in case he needed something during the night. He fell asleep thinking about how he could possibly get to know the boy when he wouldn’t even speak.

* * *

 

Porthos woke up the next morning because of a soft whimpering, it took him a while before he knew what it was and when he turned his head to look at the boy he saw he was sitting upright looking very uncomfortable. “What is wrong love?” he asked deciding to go with a pet name since he didn’t know his real name. The boy didn’t answer his question, but started wiggling a bit, looking at Porthos with pleading eyes.

“Do you need the chamber pot?” Porthos was already getting up because he didn’t expect an answer from the boy. When he put the chamber pot beside the bed the boy almost jumped from the bed to get to it. Porthos walked to one of the windows to give the boy some privacy. It was raining outside and it didn’t look like it was going to stop any time soon, he had wanted to take the boy out with him. Maybe he would be more at ease when he wasn’t trapped between four walls and felt like he could get away. Not that he could, not really anyway, not more than Porthos himself could. He was pulled from his thoughts when there was a knock on his door, Porthos walked to it instead of just calling to whoever it was to come in.

“Good morning sir, your father asked us to bring your breakfast to your rooms,” Marie was standing on the other side of the door with one of the other maids behind him. Porthos didn’t know her name, he only knew that she mostly worked for his father. Looking over his shoulder to make sure the boy was ready with what he was doing he stepped aside so that the maids could place their platters on the table.

“Why did he ask that?” he had thought that his father had wanted to embarrass him some more by having to go downstairs and join him and the guest who were still left together with his unresponsive fiancé.

“He wants you two to get to know each other”, Porthos had a hard time imagining that his father wanted to make sure his son would get along with his fiancé, but decided not to think about it. Nether of the maids even looked at the boy who was standing nervously between the bed and the chamber pot. “The boy his stuff was brought up this morning, it’s standing outside your room, do you want us to bring it in?”

Marie had always been one of his favorite people in the house, but he shook his head saying that he could do so himself. When the maids left, Porthos was left alone again with the boy who was now sitting on the edge of the bed still wrapped in the blanket Porthos had draped over him the night before.

“I’m going to pick you up and we are going to eat”, he decided that he might as well make a statement out of it instead of asking since the boy didn’t react anyway. When he picked him up Porthos noticed something he hadn’t the night before, the boy was extremely light. Other than the night before he didn’t whimper when he was picked up this time, instead he kept perfectly still until Porthos gently placed him on the sofa beside the table.  He took the covers from the platters and looked at the food that was on offer. He didn’t know what to give the boy and he didn’t want him to be afraid of Porthos reaction like he had been the night before when he hadn’t finished his glass of water. Porthos took one of the figs and cut it in half holding it to the boys lips.

“Do you want to try it?” he asked when the boy looked at him questioning. The boy took a bite from it, but from his reaction Porthos could see that he didn’t really like it. He picked up an orange and peeled it before offering the boy a part of it. Apparently he liked this better as he kept eyeing the orange while he was eating.

“You like it, he?” Porthos took the rest of the orange and cut it in pieces before handing it to the boy. When he was done with that he started eating himself and when he noticed the boy had finished his orange Porthos cut an apple into pieces, remembering the one he had brought the boy the previous night. Porthos himself was done eating, but he took a piece of bread and put some honey on it, figuring that the boy liked sweet things. He held it up to the boys lip like he had done with the fig and the orange and the boy took a bite from it. Porthos could see his eyes jumping from the bread to the apple like he couldn’t decide what to eat, so Porthos put the bread on the plate with the apple, letting the boy chose what he wanted to eat. He couldn’t deny that he was a bit happy that the boy was eating in front of him. Letting his eyes drift to the window Porthos wondered what he was going to do with his husband to be today. He thought it unlikely they would have a lengthy conversation in which they would get to know each other. Looking back at the boy he saw him take a piece of apple and pulling the plate to the floor while doing so. It landed on the floor and was shattered to pieces.

The boy immediately pulled his legs to his chest and curled himself up in the far corner of the sofa putting as much distance between himself and Porthos as he could. Tears were streaming down his face and he was shaking over his entire body. Holding his hands up Porthos shifted his body so his body was facing the boy.

“It’s okay, it was an accident, nothing is going to happen to you. It was just a plate, nothing important”, he kept up a quiet litany and took another apple from the plate cutting it in pieces like he had done with the first one.

“Here why don’t you take this, you like apples don’t you?” Porthos held the piece out for the by, but it took a while before a tentative hand reached out to take the piece from Porthos. The boy ate half the apple before he doubted a bit longer than he had the last few times before taking another piece.

“Do you have enough? I’ll leave the apple here on the table, you can take some more if you’re still hungry. I’m going to get dressed, but if something is wrong come to me, okay?” Porthos stood up and took his clothes before disappearing behind the screen. When he was dressed he opened the door to his room to get in the boys stuff. There was only a small wooden box and a small bag. Porthos hoped against hope that there would be something inside one of them that would bring the boy some comfort, but he highly doubted it. He placed both the bag and the box in front of the sofa on which the boy was sitting, not wanting to intrude the boy’s privacy.

“I got your stuff,  you can change your clothes if you want”, the boy looked at the things in front of him and then back at Porthos like he wasn’t sure what was expected of him. Porthos was starting to doubt if the boy could speak at all, if he even knew what Porthos was saying to him. Porthos took matters in own hands by taking the bag and placing it between them on the sofa. He opened it and looked through its content. There were clothes in it, but most looked old and like they had been repaired more than once.  Porthos took the clothes that looked the comfort ablest and laid them on the couch. After that, he switched the bag and box from place and opened the box. In it were some children books, a bible and a small broch. On the bottom of the box laid a small folded blanket and pulling it out he found some letters under them. Before he could take them, there was a small sound coming from the boy opposite him.  He was looking at the blanket with what could only be described as greet.

“Do you want your blanket love? Here, you can have it”, he folded it open before handing it to the boy and noticed that it wasn’t anything more than an old baby blanket. The boy immediately surged the blanket Porthos had wrapped him of his shoulders and tried to cover himself with the baby blanket. It was ridiculously small in comparison to the boy, but he looked so very happy with it.

“Why don’t you hold that very close to you and let the other one wrapped around you, eh? I think that one might be a bit small”, Porthos reached out to wrap the boy in the bigger blanket, but he started to panic and held on all the tighter to the small one. “I’m not going to take it away from you, love, I’ll never take that away from you, but I think you might get cold”, he quickly pulled the lager blanket around the boy again before dropping his hands again. The boy calmed down a bit and Porthos decided to give him a moment. Looking down at the letters in his lap he carefully opened one, he felt bad about doing so, but he hoped he might be able to find out something more about the boy. Scanning his eyes open the first letter he saw it was a child’s story, taking another letter he saw this was covered in a childlike writing. It took him a moment before he could read it, but after a while managed to make out the words, written over and over again on the paper.

“Charles d’Artagnan, is that your name?” the boy flinched slightly when Porthos said his name. “Don’t like the d’Artagnan part?” this time the boy didn’t react, just looked at Porthos out of big eyes.

“Don’t like the Charles part than?” this time the boy flinched again. “I’ll just go with love, is that okay for you?” the boy looked calmer and calmer as Porthos continued talking, so that’s what he did. “How about you get dressed, I found some clothes for you. If you want you can go behind the screen there”, he said pointing to the corner. Instead, he looked at Porthos and lifted up his arms, Porthos doubted that the boy had had a valet.

“Do you want me to help you?” he took the bottom of the boy’s shirt and pulled it over his head. When he saw the boy’s torso he felt like crying.


	2. Aramis and Athos

The boy’s entire upper body was covered in bruises and scars and he was so thin Porthos could count his ribs. He felt tears welling up inside his eyes and looked away from the boy. D’Artagnan made a small sound that held the ground between confused and scarred and it took all Porthos’ willpower not to pull the boy in his arms.

“It’s nothing love, don’t worry I’m not angry. How about a nice hot bath, hmm? And after that you can sleep some more if you want to”, Porthos got up and rang the bell, wondering if the boy was hurt any further. The boy was still looking at Porthos when he turned around, so Porthos held up his hands in a surrendering gesture and walked back to the sofa.

“Would it be okay if I touched you?” Porthos immediately knew he had chosen the wrong wording when the boy beside him tensed and curled into himself again. “Just to see if you’re hurt somewhere else”, d’Artagnan was still looking at him weary, but gave a small node of his head. Porthos slowly reached out his hand and let it glide over the boy’s arm, when he didn’t react Porthos did the same to the other arm. d’Artagnan got goosebumps where Porthos touched him and Porthos felt a small smile curling at the edges of his mouth. There was a knock on the door and Porthos reached behind d’Artagnan to wrap the blanket around the boy’s thin shoulders before shouting to come in.

“Is there anything you want sir?” Marie was standing in the doorway looking at the picture the two on the sofa painted. She couldn’t deny that they looked good together, even though the boy was hiding behind Porthos larger bulk.

“Can you prepare a warm bath in the other room and start a fire please?” Porthos was looking at Marie, but he was also rubbing his hand up and down d’Artagnan’s arm. With a small nod Marie left the room which allowed Porthos to turn his full attention back to the boy sitting beside him.

“It’s okay, Marie won’t do anything to you. Do you like a warm bath?” Porthos realized he should have asked sooner, but it was too late now. If the boy didn’t want a bath Porthos could take one himself. He didn’t have to worry because d’Artagnan nodded his head a bit and the corners of his mouth pulled up ever so slightly.

“That’s good, we’ll go into the other room when the bath is ready, it’s warmer in there”. It felt awkward to talk to someone who didn’t reply, but Porthos started to realize that the boy did answer in his own way. Porthos thought that if he told the boy what he was doing the boy would be calmer than if he were just to do things. D’Artagnan was moving nervously on the couch beside him so Porthos gave him the small blanket which immediately calmed the boy down. After sitting in silence for a while, Porthos got up and walked to the fire place. He started stoking the fire so that it would be warm in here as well. Marie knocked on the door before stepping inside.

“A bath has been drawn sir,” she was looking at Porthos with something like pity in her eyes, “can I do anything else for you?” Porthos dismissed her with a shake of his head, wondering why she would pity him. D’Artagnan may not have been what he had expected, but he knew it could be far worse. He could be engaged to someone who despised him and didn’t look any further than his skin. D’Artagnan may be nervous, but Porthos didn’t think that had anything to do with his skin color, maybe more with his size and the boy’s past.

“Come on love, your bath is ready”, Porthos held out his hand and waited for d’Artagnan to take it. He guided the boy into the next room, noticing him looking around. The room was smaller than his bedroom which made it easier to warm. The tub stood close to the fire, but not so close that it would be uncomfortable. Other than that there wasn’t much in the room, Porthos didn’t really use this room unless he wanted to take a bath, he preferred changing in his own room. Sometimes he would come to sit here in the winter to read when his own room and library couldn’t be warmed.

“Do you like it?” d’Artagnan was looking at him like he wasn’t completely sure what Porthos expected of him. Eventually he nodded a bit, looking down at the floor with a small blush on his cheeks. “Shall we get you into the bath?” this time d’Artagnan nodded more enthusiastically. He let go of the blanket he had been holding on to and let it fall to the ground after that, he looked at Porthos again.

“Do you want me to help you out the rest of your clothes?” Porthos wanted to be sure that was what the boy meant before he did anything. When the boy nodded Porthos got closer to him and pulled at the strings of his trousers. He couldn’t help how different this could have been, how the boy could react instead of just standing there when Porthos unlaced his trousers. How he could press into Porthos touch and let out a breathless sigh. Porthos snapped himself from his thoughts before he got too carried away. Once the boys trousers were taking care of Porthos began working on the laces of his pants. It was only when they were removed that Porthos noticed the large handprints on the boy’s hips. Porthos could only imagine what had happened to him. He reached out a hand to touch one of the handprints, but the boy flinched. Porthos really wanted some alone time with ,however, had done this to the boy, who he suspected was the boy’s father. Taking a deep breath Porthos tried to remain calm and looked at the boy.

“Love, are you hurt anywhere else?” this time the boy truly looked at him like he didn’t understand the question, Porthos ,however, didn’t think it was the question he didn’t understand, but the concept of being hurt.

“Don’t worry about it, shall we get you into the water?” before he was even done talking the boy was already standing beside the tub and looking at him. D’Artagnan didn’t seem to have any bad memories when it came to washing which was something. Porthos chuckled and picked the boy up, once he was in the water he let out a happy sigh.

“That’s nice isn’t it?” d’Artagnan was leaning back against the tub and had his eyes closed. For the first time since Porthos had met him, he looked completely at ease. Porthos took one of the soft cloths that was lying on the shelves and rubbed some soap on it.

“I’m going to was you”, all the acknowledgement that he got from d’Artagnan was a small node of his head. Taking the boy’s hand he started washing his arms, being more careful when it came to washing his torso, the boy whimpered a few times when Porthos touched one of the nastier bruises. After that, he moved on to d’Artagnan’s legs and washed them, wondering what to do with the boy’s lower anatomy.

“Would you like to wash yourself down there?” Porthos asked awkwardly keeping the cloth up for d’Artagnan to see. D’Artagnan just kept looking at him so Porthos decided that he might as well do it himself. Dunking his hand back in the water he took d’Artagnan’s penis in his hand and washed it. He was surprised when d’Artagnan let out a delighted sigh, but tried not to think too much of it. He didn’t want to take advantage of the boy, he doubted the boy even knew why he liked what Porthos did. He knew perfectly well he would be expected to share a bed with d’Artagnan on his wedding night, but that was something he didn’t want to think about now. Instead, he took the jug that was standing on the table beside the tub Porthos filled it with water and started to wash the boy’s hair. After that, he went to sit down in the chair that stood beside the fire and looked outside. It looked like a storm was picking up outside, Porthos could only hope that d’Artagnan wasn’t afraid of thunder and lighting. Looking over at the boy he saw he was sitting in the tub with his eyes closed and a smile on his face. The boy truly was beautiful, there was no denying that. Porthos got up from his chair and making sure d’Artagnan didn’t see him move went back into the bedroom to get the boy’s clothes and stoke the fire. He was happy to notice that the boy didn’t seem to have noticed he was gone. After a couple of minutes d’Artagnan started to get out of the water and looked at Porthos.

“Want to get out love?” Porthos took one of the bigger towels and wrapped it around the boy before lifting him out of the tub again. He dried the boy of before helping him pull on his clothes. When he wanted to move away again d’Artgnan took his hand and shook his head. “What’s wrong love?” Porthos was amazed that d’Artagnan touched him out of free will and restrained him. D’Artagnan’s eyes moved from Porthos to the tub and back. Porthos was puzzled as to what the boy wanted and didn’t know what to do. The longer Porthos stayed quiet the more distressed d’Artagnan grew.

“Do you want your blanket?” the boy calmed down a bit at the mention of his blanket, but he shook his head and looked again from Porthos to the tub.

“Do you want me to take a bath?” understanding started to down on Porthos and he knew he was right when d’Artagnan started to nod his head. The water was still warm and Porthos was more than a bit tempted to take a bath himself, but he was unsure what to do with d’Artagnan in the meantime. The boy answered that question for him when he went into the other room to get his blanket before coming to sit in the chair Porthos had been sitting in. Shrugging his shoulders Porthos started to strip and got into the tub himself. He tried not to think too much about d’Artagnan who was sitting in the chair behind him. When he got out of the tub again and took a towel for himself he was aware that d’Artagnan was looking at him. When he noticed that Porthos looking back at him he quickly averted his eyes. Porthos didn’t really mind, considering the boy was going to see him naked anyway eventually. When he was dressed he took d’Artagnan by the hand and brought him back to the bedroom.

“I was planning to go outside, but it’s raining too hard. You can sleep some more if you want or we could go to the library?” Porthos was a bit wary about bringing the boy anywhere near his family. He knew what his father and sister could be like and he didn’t want to expose the boy to that just yet, he was just opening up to Porthos a bit. The boy didn’t answer just stood there looking at Porthos.

"How about we go sit in the library, we can take your book with us”, he didn’t get an answer so he just took the book and went to the door that was opposite of the bathroom door. D’Artagnan was walking behind him and stopped again when Porthos opened the door. Porthos had always loved his library, he knew his father mainly had it installed so that Porthos didn’t come in the family library, but he didn’t care. Over the years Porthos had been allowed in the family library, but he still preferred his own smaller own. There was a larger desk in front of the windows and just like in his bedroom there was a comfortable sitting area in front of the fire and a thick rug in front of the fire. A maid had also started the fire in this room and it was pleasantly warm. D’Artagnan was still clutching his blanket close to him and was eyeing the desk. Remembering the piece of paper on which the boy’s name was written Porthos thought he knew what the boy wanted.

“Do you want to write something?” Porthos asked the boy gently which got the boy nodding his head like a skittish animal. “Come over here then love”, Porthos walked to the desk and got some paper and a pencil out of one of the drawers. D’Artagnan picked up the pencil and eyed Porthos nervously. Deciding to give the boy some space he went back into the other room to get d’Artagnan’s plait. He placed the plate on the desk beside the boy before taking a book from one of the shelves and reading. They sat in silence until there was a knock on the door and a maid brought in their lunch. Porthos filled a plate with soup for d’Artagnan and called the boy over.

“Careful, it’s hot”, d’Artagnan nodded his head and started eating. When he was done Porthos got up and went to look what the boy had been writing. The entire paper was covered in his name again and Porthos wondered if that was all d’Artagnan could write.

Porthos did notice that the boy took great pride in it. The letters were very wobbly, but there weren’t any blotches on the paper. Looking over at where the boy was sitting he noticed that d’Artagnan was watching him. Porthos managed a weak smile and pointed at the paper which was lying on the desk.

“You can write your name very well,” the boy smiled at the praise like it was something he rarely experienced “can you write anything else?” Porthos was afraid the boy was going to panic, but instead he nodded his head a bit before getting up and coming to stand beside Porthos.

“Do you want to show me what else you can write?” Porthos tried not to sound too hopeful so that d’Artagnan didn’t feel pressured. The boy nodded again and sat down on the chair glancing nervously at Porthos before taking up the pencil. He concentrated very hard on whatever it was he was writing and when he was done he turned to Porthos again. Whatever it was the boy had written it was even more illegible than his own name. After a few moments, Porthos managed to read one of the two words the boy had written.

“Athos?” he looked at the boy when he said the word and was pleased when the boy nodded his head with a small smile on his lips. Seeing his reaction Porthos did his very best to make out the other word. “And Aramis?” Again the boy nodded and judging by his reaction whoever they were Porthos was sure they hadn’t hurt the boy.

“Are they your friends?” the boy nodded, but he looked sad and was staring at the piece of paper in front of him. Wanting to make the boy smile again Porthos took a very impulsive decision and hoped he would be able to live up to it.

“Well than we have to try our best to invite them to the wedding”, Porthos knew he would have very little to say about who would be invited to the wedding and he doubted his father would allow any friends from d’Artagan. The smile he got from d’Artagnan was worth it though. The boy turned back to the paper and started writing the two names over and over again. Looking at him Porthos couldn’t help but pity the boy. He seemed so happy just being able to write the names of people who he loved even though it was obvious someone had hurt him so bad. Porthos knew he would be able to love the boy, he just doubted it would do either of them any good.

“Do you want to learn to write my name?” he asked looking at the boy. When he got an affirmative reply he pulled over a chair and went to sit beside him. He took the pencil from the boy and wrote his own name as slow as he could before giving the pencil back to d’Artagnan. After the boy had copied his name, he looked at Porthos with fearful expression like he was afraid Porthos would be angry at him. Looking at the way the boy had written his name, Porthos couldn’t help but think back at the time he had been taught how to write.

“That’s really good love”. Apparently pleased with the praise he had gotten d’Artagnan went turned to the paper in front of him and started writing Porthos name over and over again. When he had filled about half of the paper Porthos got up and started searching for a book he knew must be somewhere. When he found it he went back to the table and opened it.

“Do you want to learn some other words love?” d’Artagnan waited a minute before timidly nodding his head. Porthos opened the picture book and let d’Artagan flip through the pages for a while. When he waited longer before turning the page than he had for the previous pages Porthos looked at the picture.

“That’s a nice horse isn’t it?” the boy just looked at him briefly before turning his eyes back to the page. He would have to take d’Artagnan to the stables when the weather got better, for now he just wrote the word horse on the paper.

* * *

He was woken by a key in the lock turning and someone pulling the blanket of him and pulling him upright. A small bowl was placed in his lap, it burned. After that,  whoever had been in here left him alone again. He took the bowl with shaking hands and put it on the floor near his feet before sinking down on the floor himself. He started eating, not entirely sure what it was he was eating. When he was done he climbed back onto the bed and pulled his blanket close around him. It was starting to get dark outside, which meant that the nice men would come to talk to him soon. He liked the men, liked the stories the men told him. They sometimes brought other clothes with them and a big tub filled with water. One of the men would always talk to him even if he wasn’t telling a story. He remembered there used to be a nice woman as well, when he still lived in the big house. She would also tell him stories and hold him close and she would keep the mean man away, but then the woman left and he was left alone with the mean man. He didn’t like that man, but the man never really bothered him anymore. It was almost like he had  forgotten  the boy existed.  It was completely dark when the men came in, each carrying a candle. It was the only light in the small room beside the spars light of the moon that came in through the window. One of the  men had a tanned skin, curly hair and dark eyes, he was the one that always told him stories. He looked a bit sad, which was unusual.  The other man had a pale skin and green eyes, above his upper lip was a faint scare. He didn’t talk as much as the other man did but he was always kind to him. The man with the darker skin put his candle on the window sill before coming to sit next to the boy.

“Hello d’Artagnan, how was your day?” the boy just looked at the man with curiosity, wanting to know what story the man would tell him today. The man just sighed and looked a bit sadder than before. “I have to tell you something very important and I need you to listen to me. You know how in some of the stories I tell you the prince marries the princess or the deer the doe. Well you are also going to marry someone. He’s the son of a marquis, so I guess you’re going to live in a really big house with a big garden you can walk in,” the nice man was looking at him with tears in his eyes,” but we can’t come with you. At least not straight away, we’ll come to you after a few weeks, until then you have to try your very best to be brave, okay?”

D’Artagnan didn’t really understand what that meant, why couldn’t the nice men come with him, who was going to tell him stories and wash him? A sad noise left his throat and he threw himself in the nice man’s arms. His entire body was shaken with his sobs, why did the nice people always leave him? The nice man had said he was going to come to him, but was that really true?

“It’s alright, everything is going to be alright, you hear me? Now stop crying, we’re going to get you into a nice hot bath and then I’ll tell you a story,” the other man who had been standing beside the door yanked it open. Two men walked in carrying a tub between them which they placed in the middle of the room, leaving almost no other space in the room. When they left the nice men come closer to d’Artagnan, he knew what was going to happen. The men were going to undress him and then lift him into the tub, after that they were going to wash d’Artagnan and dry him with a soft cloth that he had hidden underneath his clothes and all the while they would talk to d’Artagnan. That was precisely what happened, this time the men talked about the weather and clouds. When he closed his eyes he could almost imagine what he was being told, but there were things he couldn’t really imagine. He didn’t know or didn’t remember what a bunny looked like, but he didn’t mind. After the bath, the nice men dressed him in a long night gown that had gone thin with wear.

“Come on, get into bed”, the man with the dark hair said nodding to the bed. D’Artagnan almost jumped in it, loving what was about to happen just as much as he loved what had already happened. The pale man then took the small blanket that the nice woman had given d’Artagnan and threw it over him before taking the bigger blanket and covering him into it as well. Opening the door again the men come in and took the tub away again and  when they left one of the nice men came to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Before I start telling you a story, you need to remember one thing for me. When you live in your new house and you hear someone talking about Aramis or Athos, then we’re there and no matter what they try we’ll take care of you again, alright?” d’Artagnan nodded his head, making sure he remembered the names so he would now when the nice men would be back with him. Satisfied by d’Artagnan’s response the nice man started talking.

“Once upon a time, there lived three bears in a nice cottage in the woods,” d’Artagnan knew this story, it was one of his favourites,” there was a papa bear, a mama bear and a baby bear. One day the mama bear maked them all porridge. A big bowl for papa bear, a small bowl for here and a tiny bowl for baby bear, but when they tried it, it was too hot. So they decided to go for a walk while the food cooled down. What they didn’t know was that there was also living a small naughty child in the woods who had long blond hair. The little girl saw the bears leave…” d’Artagnan wanted to stay awake, but he felt his eyes getting heavier until they finally closed.

The next time he woke,  it was by someone pulling him upright. D’Artagnan blinked his eyes in panic, looking who it was that was holding him tight by his arm. It was the mean man, d’Artagnan began to thrash in his arms.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the man, but he knew whenever he was around he hurt d’Artagnan. When the nice woman was around the man never bothered him, but when the nice woman had left the man started taking more interested in the boy. When d’Artagnan still lived in the nice house with the warm rooms the man would shout at him and sometimes hit him, but since d’Artagnan lived here the man didn’t really bother with him.

“Stop it you useless little thing”, the man shook him roughly and d’Artagnan lost his footing. Before he could get up, the man put his foot on d’Artagan’s throat. “Now listen to me”, the man pressed down on his throat to make sure d’Artagnan was listening.

“You are going to marry, but take it from me it won’t be a nice marriage. You’re going to marry a savage, a terrible bruit who will hurt you every day and do with you as you please, but at least you will be out of my hair”. D’Artagnan was terrified, the men who guarded his room sometimes hurt him so bad that he couldn’t even lie in his bed without hurting. Whenever the nice man (Aramis and Athos, he had to remember those names) came the always looked angry when they saw the bruises on his body. Suddenly the mean man bent down and placed a cloth over his mount. After that everything went black.

* * *

 

When he woke again it was to the sensation being thrown on the floor. Opening his eyes he saw a man’s retreating back. He made a small scared sounded, but the man kept walking. D’Artagnan was scared and looking around the room didn’t help. Everything looked strange, it looked a bit like the place he lived when the nice lady was still alive. There was a warm fire burning, but d’Artagnan knew better than to get any closer. The last he had done so someone had tried to push him forward and it was only thanks to Aramis that he hadn’t ended in the fire. There was also a bed that looked much nicer than d’Artagnan’s. He could hear loud footsteps and quickly lowered his eyes, a few moments later a door was opened. D’Artagnan peeked up and couldn’t believe what he saw, there was a huge man standing in front of him who was looking around confused until his eyes landed on d’Artagnan. The man stood still before kneeling on the floor in front of d’Artagnan. He couldn’t really comprehend the look on the man’s face, but it made him weary.

“I’m Porthos, can you tell me you name?” d’Artagan was afraid, he didn’t know how to answer the man’s question and started trembling remembering all the times he couldn’t answer one of the guards’ their question and what they would do to him as punishment. Porthos, that’s what the man said his name was, got up from the floor and went to the bed where he took a blanket. He came back to d’Artagnan to drape the blanket around him before he ran out the room. Maybe he was going to get the brute d’Artagnan was supposed to marry to punish him, it could be why Porthos had thrown the blanket around him, so that the brute could see he had done something wrong other than being unable to answer a question.

D’Artangan didn’t know how long Porthos was gone but when he came back he was carrying a plate of food which he placed on the table.

“ I thought you might be hungry” Porthos said to him, but d’Artagnan wasn’t going to touch the food, maybe the brute was waiting outside the room so he could see what d’Artgnan did wrong. Porthos turned around and d’Artagnan’s eyes shot back to the plate. There was fruit on it and meat, d’Artgnan only got fruit when Aramis or Athos would bring him some and he never really got meat. Porthos took the plate and put it on the floor beside d’Artagnan after which he went to sit on one of the chairs. D’Artagnan waited a while before reaching for the food, before he knew it the plate was empty. Porthos rose from his chair and handed him a glass of water. Maybe it was a bit unwise to drink in front of Porthos but he couldn’t help himself.

“Do you want some more?” Porthos asked, he walked over to the table and when he turned around d’Artagnan had already placed his glass on the floor. The guards never gave him anymore water if he was still touching his glass. He didn’t even take the glass away, he filled it right in front of d’Artagnan. This time d’Artagnan could only manage half a glass. He was afraid Porthos would hurt him for wasting water. Instead of going to sit back on the chair Porthos went to sit on the floor beside him. Porthos didn’t say anything else but after some time he went to some screen and when he came back he was only wearing a pair of trousers. Porthos came back to him and reached for him and d’Artgnan couldn’t help but flinch. Sometimes one the guards would come in his room, they would take off their clothes and touch d’Artagnan.

“Can you stand?” Porthos asked in a soft voice and when d’Artagnan didn’t give an answer again Porthos picked him up.

“I’m going to carry you to bed so that you can get some sleep, okay?” the only reply he could give was a pitiful moan. Porthos placed him on the soft bed he had been looking at earlier. After that, he pulled of d’Artagnan’s boots and taking of his doublet. Soon after d’Artagnan’s eyes drifted close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient, I finally managed to finish this chapter and I hope you all like it. Let me know what you think. I'm also still looking for someone to proof read for me so if you're intrested let me know.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that everyone likes this story, feel free to let me know what you think of this because kudos and comments always make me smile. I'm also still looking for someone to proof read for me. Also could someone please explain to me how you get a tumblr link on your profil?


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